


Pink Iced Donuts

by SilvanShadow



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Missing Scene, No Angst, season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27655964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilvanShadow/pseuds/SilvanShadow
Summary: “Aw c’mon, Mick! We’re celebrating!” Ian lifts his donut in an attempt to get Mickey to ‘toast’ him with his own confection.“I didn’t win the fucking lottery, Gallagher,” Mickey rolls his eyes. “It’s a shitty job in a shitty store. What’s there to fucking celebrate?”
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	Pink Iced Donuts

**Author's Note:**

> Missing moments from the Season Two episode "Summer Loving"

The front door of the Milkovich house is never locked. The Milkovich reputation alone is enough to keep their home uninvaded. Only someone with half a brain cell or a death wish would enter that place uninvited.

Someone like the person who is shaking Mickey Milkovich by the shoulder at ass o’clock in the morning imploring him to wake up.

“The fuck?” Eyes still closed, Mickey instinctually strikes a fist at the intruder; making solid contact with what he assumes is a ribcage, buying him precious seconds to jerk away from the jostling touch. The adrenaline surge chases away the last vestiges of sleep as he rubs at his bleary eyes until a mass of red hair and freckles come into focus, “Gallagher?”

Ian Gallagher—all pained apologetic smiles and a hand cradling his right side—takes a step back from Mickey’s bed, “Morning, Mick,” he winces. “Sorry about this, I was going to call Mandy and have her pass on the news, but she’s still back at my place attached to Lip at the, well,” he pulls a face.

See, Mickey hadn’t expected Ian to wait around for him, not really. Figured he’d find himself a new fuck buddy ASAP—out of sight, out of mind and all that shit. He’d only visited Mickey in person that one time while he was still being held at the Juvenile Temporary Detention Center, so Mickey figured that was that.

Until the cash started showing up in his commissary account.

Never as much money as Ian had scammed out of that pedo Kash, but enough to buy a few packs of smokes to ration and an occasional snack. Every other week that money would appear in his account, and then there’d been Ian—taller, with shorter hair and far fewer freckles—standing next to Mandy as he walked out the Detention Center doors just yesterday.

Mickey groans as he pushes himself up to sit at the edge of his bed, still rubbing hands over tired eyes and face, “The fuck you talking about?”

Ian claps his hands once before rubbing them together, “Talked to Linda last night: your first shift starts today at 1:00. Better be there by 12:30, though. There’s some paperwork to fill out. And make sure you bring your ID and Social Security card. You’ll need ’em for the forms.”

Mickey blinks rapidly at the excited ginger in front of him. Yeah, Ian had talked the night before at the baseball dugouts—in between bouts of good, hard fucking—about asking Linda to give Mickey a job at the Kash and Grab, he just hadn’t thought anything would actually come of it. “Wait, we just talked about this shit last night; you asked her already? And what exactly is she hiring me to do? I told you I ain’t cleaning up after people.”

“Nope, no cleaning. She actually liked your Security suggestion; figures it takes a thief to catch a thief,” Ian grins. “Want me to meet you back here after my summer school classes? We can walk there together.”

Mickey reaches for the pack of smokes and lighter on his bedside table; taking the time to light one and take a deep drag before exhaling the smoke through his nose, “Think I can find my own way to the store, Cunningham.”

Ian rocks back on his heels, delighted eyes blinking rapidly with lips compressed in silent laughter, “Was that an actual _Happy Days_ reference, Mick? If I’m Richie does that make you the Fonz? Are you hiding a leather jacket somewhere? C’mon, say ‘AAAY’ for me! Shit, there’s gotta be a jukebox somewhere you can punch!”

“Know something else I’d like to punch,” Mickey grouses around the cigarette firmly planted between his lips.

Ian tosses his head back and giggles, the joyous sound echoing loud off the walls of Mickey’s bedroom.

Mickey scowls and launches a swift, hard kick to Ian’s shin. “Jesus, Gallagher! You tryin’ to wake up the whole damn house?” he hisses, “shut the fuck up! How am I supposed to explain the fuck you’re doin’ here at the ass-crack of dawn?”

“Fuck, Mick!” Ian leans down to rub at his abused shin; his backpack sliding down his shoulder to land with a loud thump on the wooden bedroom floor, bringing another harsh curse from Mickey’s lips. “How about the fucking truth: I’m here because I got you a job! Jesus!” Though his eyes do slide to Mickey’s closed door as he stands up and readjusts the backpack on his shoulder, “Your dad here?”

Mickey shakes his head, taking the final puff from his cigarette before stubbing it out in an old candy dish turned ash tray on his bedside table. “Nah, just my fuckhead brothers. Maybe a cousin or two. You see anyone passed out on the couch when you came in?”

“Nope.”

Mickey shrugs, “Still don’t need to be waking up the house. What my brothers see, my dad eventually finds out.”

Ian’s eyes flit between Mickey and the unlockable bedroom door, weight shifting from foot to foot, “Would they really get suspicious if they saw me in your room? I mean, they still think I’m Mandy’s boyfriend, don’t they?”

“They’re dumbasses,” Mickey yawns, lounging back on his elbows. “Still no reason to give them something to blab about.”

Ian nods, “I gotta go soon anyway. But seriously, Mick, let me meet you here before your shift. Just in case you fall back to sleep. If you’re late Linda will end this before you even start.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going back to sleep. Fuckin’ time is it anyway?”

Ian glances down at his watch, “Almost 7:30.”

“Gallagher!”

“I know, I know!” Ian placates. “But if I hadn’t gotten outta the house when I did, I would’ve gotten roped into helping Debs set up Gallagher Daycare.”

“Should’ve just told ’em you got summer school, and let me sleep more,” Mickey complains.

Ian shakes his head, “Wouldn’t have worked. They know that my classes don’t start until nine.”

“Nine, huh?” Mickey glances up at Ian through his eyelashes before pulling his plump bottom lip between his teeth. “Plenty of time for you to stop just standing there and get on me.”

Ian grins like all the secrets of the universe have just been revealed to him. “Yeah, Mick. Plenty of time,” he says as he slides his backpack off his shoulder—soundlessly this time—and advances on his partner. Mickey uses the time it takes Ian to pull his t-shirt over his head to shift onto his knees in the center of his small bed. Once Ian’s shoes have joined his shirt in a little pile next to his backpack, Mickey reaches out to yank Ian forward by the waistband of his jeans; his tattooed fingers releasing the button and fly. Before the dark-haired boy can begin tugging the denim down his hips, Ian takes hold of Mickey’s wrists, “But I am coming back here after class and walking with you to the Kash and Grab.”

Mickey wants to argue as he pulls his hands out of Ian’s light grip. Wants to rail against the insinuation that he needs some sort of babysitter; really wants to rail against the unwanted warmth that spreads through his belly at Ian’s concern for him. Instead, he grumbles out a “whatever” before yanking the tank top he’d been wearing since he left Juvie yesterday over his head and tossing it to the side.

A slow, lazy grin slides across Ian’s face as he grabs Mickey’s wrists again, guiding them back to the waist of his open jeans. Together they push the denim, and the boxers beneath, down slim hips and legs. Seconds later, Mickey’s boxers join the pile on the floor.

They soon lose track of their ‘plenty of time’ and Ian has to hurriedly redress and run to the L in order to make his Chemistry class on time.

*******

Linda Karib scowls as Mickey takes the clipboard and pen from her outstretched hand. She continues to scowl at his profile as he places the clipboard against the edge of her dresser to fill out the forms that make him a legal, all-above-board employee of the Kash and Grab.

“Driver’s license and Social Security card,” Linda demands after Mickey hands her the clipboard of completed forms. Mickey ignores his new boss’s hostility and digs the items out of his wallet. Hostile is, for the most part, Linda’s natural state and, usually, Mickey is one for giving as good as he gets. He’s willing to keep his mouth shut for the time being seeing as she’s just given him the job he needs to fulfill his probation conditions. Also, she just looks so fucking uncomfortable propped up by a stack of pillows against the headboard of her bed with legs splayed, and her prominent pregnant belly. Enforced bedrest looks like it sucks.

“Photocopy these!” she barks, handing the cards over to Ian after perusing them to her satisfaction.

“Be right back,” Ian says over his shoulder as he heads back down the stairs to the store proper where the copier is located. Leaving Mickey alone with his new boss.

Linda continues to scowl and stare at her new employee, and Mickey itches to bark out his own “the fuck you lookin’ at?” but he holds it in. His eyebrows do inch higher up his forehead though in the face of her staring. Her own eyebrows rise in reply; unintimidated by the neighborhood thug standing in her bedroom.

“Just so you know, none of this,” Linda taps the clipboard of forms, “is for you. I need Ian to help me run the store. That means keeping him happy. And, apparently, keeping him happy means hiring your thug ass. That doesn’t mean that I’m just going to sit here and let you run roughshod. If you even _think_ of turning a blind eye while your delinquent brothers or asshole father rob me blind, I will not only fire your ass, I’ll also contact your probation officer. We clear?”

“Crystal,” Mickey scratches at an eyebrow with his index finger, wondering how long it could possibly take to photocopy two damn cards.

“Better be,” Linda sits the clipboard next to her on the bed before reaching for the cup of ginger tea she’d demanded Ian fetch the second they’d entered the store. “You know,” she ponders, “I didn’t realize you and Ian were such good friends.”

“He’s…uh…he’s tight with my sister.” _Seriously, Ian! Get your ass back here._

“And _she_ asked Ian to get you a job. Huh,” she shrugs, “now that actually makes sense. Anyway, there’s your uniform,” Linda points to a black windbreaker-type jacket with the word SECURITY emblazoned on the back folded at the foot of her bed. “And, yes, I expect you to wear it!”

Mickey picks up the jacket and shrugs it on. It’s a little large for his frame, the sleeves hanging over his hands until he pushes them up to his elbows. Otherwise, it’s fine. He can deal. The sleeves would have to go eventually, though.

“The schedule is posted on Sunday mornings. I’ll have Ian show you where it is,” Linda says. “I’m also going to have him train you on the register so you can cover his shifts if something comes up. I’m also giving you the same meal allowance I do Ian: you can have one—I repeat: _one_ —drink from the cooler and one sandwich from the deli counter per shift. Anything else you pay for or leave a note in the register so I can take it out of your check. Don’t do either of those, and I’ll consider it stealing and your out. Got it?”

Before Mickey can reply a slightly out of breath Ian jogs back into the bedroom. “Sorry, machine was out of toner,” Ian hands the photocopies to Linda, and his driver’s license and Social Security card back to Mickey. “So, Mick, ready to get started?”

No, but he was definitely ready to get the fuck out of this room.

*******

Mickey is standing on the customer side of the counter when Ian slides a napkin holding a pink iced donut in front of him. “The fuck is this?”

“It’s a donut, Mick.”

“It’s fucking pink,” Mickey complains.

“Mmhm,” Ian grins, “with sprinkles.”

“Can it _not_ be pink?”

Ian laughs as he grabs a donut from the case for himself, “Honestly, no. I don’t know if it’s all Linda ever orders, or if it’s the only thing the bakery sends over. But they are always pink. Always!”

“Ok, so what’s it for?” Mickey asks.

“Aw c’mon, Mick! We’re celebrating!” Ian lifts his donut in an attempt to get Mickey to ‘toast’ him with his own confection.

“I didn’t win the fucking lottery, Gallagher,” Mickey rolls his eyes. “It’s a shitty job in a shitty store. What’s there to fucking celebrate?”

Ian shrugs, “It’s a shitty job that isn’t the poultry processing plant.” A sly grin slides across his face, “There’s also the fringe benefits to consider.”

“Fringe benefits, huh?” Mickey huffs out a laugh, “A fucking sandwich and drink each shift?”

“Nah, I’m talking about the real fringe benefits: getting to spend hours basking in my gorgeous face and scintillating conversation.”

“Oh, fuck me!” Mickey groans at the ceiling.

“Speaking of which,” Ian says with eyebrows bouncing, “there’s also the two fifteen-minute breaks we get per shift and the cooler that we are already acquainted with.”

“Ah,” Mickey smiles, _leave it to Gallagher to be about as subtle as a brick wall_ , “those fringe benefits.”

“Yes, those fringe benefits!” Ian says as he slides the napkin and donut closer to Mickey, “Now celebrate with me and eat your fucking half-stale pink donut.”

Mickey shakes his head, but picks up the donut and takes a large bite anyway. As he chews, he watches the smirk on Ian’s face bloom into a full-blown grin as the redhead takes a bite of his own pink iced donut with sprinkles.

Perhaps, Mickey considers as he swallows down the sweet treat, this job won’t be so shitty after all.

**-END-**

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to be as canon-compliant as possible, but I did move the start of Lip/Mandy's relationship forward by a little bit.
> 
> This is the first story that I've written in a very long time. I'm rusty and I think it shows. Thank you for taking the time to read. Any comments are very much welcome. 
> 
> I'm [silvanshadow](http://silvanshadow.tumblr.com) on Tumblr if you'd like to say "Hi!"


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